Windows
by RalynnFrost
Summary: Hiro Nakamura gives Claire a surprising glimpse of the future. One Shot - Sylaire


**Windows**

**Inspired by "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab for Cutie**

_"How I wish you could see the potential._

_The potential of you and me._

_It's like a book, elegantly bound,_

_but in a language that you can't read just yet"_

* * *

"_You may eventually come to forgive me… Maybe you'll even love me_."

Claire sat straight up in her bed with a startled scream. A bead of cold sweat ran down her neck to the rhythm of her thundering heart. She tried to console herself that it was just a dream. Just the same old nightmare that visited her every night. Trembling fingers traced the side of her face as tears began to flow. It was like she could still feel _him_ touching her.

The young blonde couldn't even remember the last time she had been able to close her eyes without seeing his face and hearing his voice. Those dark obsessing eyes followed her everywhere, watching, waiting. Having a psychopathic serial killer for her stalker wasn't even the worst part though. The worst part was knowing that she could potentially be spending the rest of eternity like this, and so could he.

"Ms. Bennet?"

Claire nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the unexpected voice. Her eyes darted around the dark room trying to discern where it had come from. "Who is it?"

"Ms. Bennet, I am sorry to scare you like that." Hiro Nakamura stepped out from the shadows near her closet with an awkward smile and half courtesy bow.

"Hiro, what are you doing here? It's," she glanced at the clock next to her bed, "_four in the morning_." Claire groaned and threw herself back onto her bed.

"Yes, I am very sorry, but I must show you something important." Hiro pushed his glasses back up onto his nose and fidgeted with his hands, clearly uncomfortable to be there.

"Alright," she sighed. "What is it, Hiro?" She rubbed her eyes and sat back up sensing that it really must be important. He hesitated and stared at his shoes, unable to get his thumbs to stop twiddling. Claire repressed the urge to glare irritably at the nervous Japanese man. "_Hiro_?" she prodded.

"You are not going to like this," he warned darkly as he crossed the space between them and put a reluctant hand on her shoulder. With a blink they were gone.

* * *

"What is this?" Claire asked, studying the solemn scene they had stumbled upon. They were in a cemetery on a dark rainy day, hidden by a line of trees. There was a funeral finishing up, and a nice crowd of people were walking back to their cars. The shiny black coffin with silver hardware was covered in flowers and mementos, the grave site around it also decorated with much reverence. Claire squinted to see the picture of the deceased mounted beside the plot. He was an older man, oddly familiar, but not one she readily recognized.

"This is the future. Forty-three years from where you come from," Hiro started explaining with a saddened expression.

"Whose funeral is this?" Claire inquired, leaning out from the tree line for a better look.

"Peter Petrelli's." Hiro extended a hand to her shoulder, holding her back from walking into the scene. She turned to give him a look of sour surprise. "He lived a long happy life. When he died it was peaceful, surrounded by family that loved him."

"Why are you showing me this?" Tears began to well up and she could feel her throat tightening in an attempt to hold back the coming sob.

"Because this is the day that you start to learn how your gift is also is your curse," he explained in his thick accent. She looked again and saw a solitary woman in black remaining near grave. The woman walked up to touch the coffin with a loving caress and lifted the veil of her hat, revealing the figure to be a future version of herself. She hadn't aged a single day. Claire absently touched her own face in a grim sort of wonder.

"_Poor girl… There's so much about yourself that you don't even understand. Your brain is not like the others, Claire. _You_ are not like the others. You're different. You're special. And I couldn't kill you, even if I wanted to._"

Sylar's words from the day that he had come to take her ability for himself hung heavily in her heart. He had told her that she could never die, but seeing the scene unfolding before her brought the notion into a new harsh light of reality. She would never get sick. She would never grow old. And she would continue to live long after everyone that she knew and loved passed; just like he had promised.

Sylar appeared, quietly walking up to the grave with a long stemmed white rose. He placed the flower on the casket with the others, lightly touched the black lid, and stepped back with his head bowed in silence. Even with his face turned down Claire could tell that he had not aged either, remaining as equally frozen in time as she was.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Claire demanded, anger rising from her grief.

Hiro's voice was somber and his face conveyed that he appreciated the murderer's presence about as much as she did. "Sylar and Peter worked together for many years. They did much good work for the world, and saved many lives. Peter became his closest friend."

Claire watched herself turn to the dark man and begin to cry without control. She balled up her fists and struck his chest and arms repeatedly, shaking with inconsolable emotion. Claire waited for her nemesis to turn on her, to attack her, to do _something_ worthy of her revulsion. But he never did, opting instead to just stand there, resiliently taking each hit. Once she had started to run out of steam he finally took possession of her hands, holding them in his own, and casting an indecipherable expression down upon her filled with an amount of softness and remorse that she had not known he was capable of. Her legs collapsed beneath her and Sylar caught her before she could meet the ground. He took her into his arms and sheltered her trembling figure tightly, offering soothing whispers of reassurance.

There was no ulterior motive. No perverse actions taking place. Nothing she could hate him for at that moment. He was genuinely grieving for her uncle and sharing compassion with Claire.

"_You can never die. And now, I guess, neither can I_."

"Come, there is more that you must see." Hiro placed his hand on Claire's shaking shoulder and blinked once again.

* * *

The time traveling duo reappeared in a nearly vacant hallway. The sterile white walls and shiny tile floor with a faint scent like antiseptic in the air told Claire that their destination resided in a hospital. Hiro lead her to a window looking into a private room.

Claire saw herself, young as ever, sitting on the edge of a bed holding the wrinkled hand of an unknown senior. The room was filled with vases of bright fragrant flowers on every surface, which offered a sharp contrast to the expression on her face. Not a day had passed for her, but the creeping wisdom of age could be seen in her eyes. Her face had grown hard with the reality of decades beyond her time.

"Another sixty years have passed. The dying man now is your husband." Claire stared at her companion with wide-eyed disbelief. "You were married for nearly fifty years. There were many good years, but also many hard ones. Your husband loved you very much, but the stress of… your _power_ made life difficult. You both had to watch helplessly as he grew old and sick."

"And I didn't…" She felt like he had hit her in the stomach with a sledgehammer of knowledge for the inevitable. Claire put a timid hand on the glass and wondered aloud, "What about my blood? It can heal. Why couldn't I give it to him so that he could stay young like me?"

"Your blood is a great healer, but it cannot stop time. Nature must take its course. For people to die is the natural order of things."

"_Everybody dies sometime. Well, almost everybody_.."

Hiro gave her a moment to come to terms with the future before her. His mission could not wait forever though. The time traveler hesitantly touched her one last time. "I have one more thing to show you."

* * *

Snowflakes tickled Claire's nose, and the ice on the ground froze her bare feet. They were standing just outside of a house near another window. She moved to see what this last scene would be, but Hiro had not let go of her just yet. He paused, every tense muscle riddled with conflict. "Everything I have shown you leads up to this. You should be ready before you see it."

Claire felt a knot of dread coil in her stomach. She had already been shown the worst of her fears. How terrible would it be? Steeling herself for a great horror, she took a deep breath and balanced on the tips of her toes to peer into the window.

A flamboyant Christmas tree lit up a small but cozy looking living room. Presents littered the floor around the holiday piece. Behind it Claire could see numerous shelves of books lining the walls, and each opening had picture frames fitted into them. Happy faces gazed back at her, surging with life. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting. Her ideal family home. "When is this?"

"Twenty-seven years after the death of your husband." Scooting closer so that she could look around a little more, Claire spotted herself sitting in a chair holding a small child. The chubby cheeked little girl giggled with a contagious smile. She had long curls of dark hair framing her rosy face, and bright blue eyes that twinkled happily. "That is your daughter, Sandra," Hiro said in a reserved tone as if he were preparing for something painful to happen.

"She's beautiful," Claire whispered in awe. She watched herself smile with a warmth that she couldn't remember ever knowing before. Her daughter bounced around, lifting a tiny hand and floating one of the presents over to herself. "She's special too!" Claire proudly exclaimed looking back at Hiro, oblivious to the pensive expression on his face.

When she heard the little girl squeal "_Daddy_", Claire snapped back to the picture of bliss and saw herself get out of the chair to greet someone just beyond sight of a doorframe. She recognized her motions as bestowing a hug and kiss to a person much taller than herself. Her heart skipped a beat, waiting in anticipation of seeing the man that would provide her so much happiness.

The swelling of pride and pleasure that the potential future had given her however, suddenly burst, and the jagged remains punctured her heart on the way to filling her gut with heavy stones. She fell away from the window, standing still in complete and total shock. Her lungs started burning long before she reminded herself how to breathe. "What is this?" she asked, turning to Hiro with a trace of menace in her quiet voice. "Is this a sick _joke_?"

"No, this _a_ future." Hiro was just a bit afraid of the young woman then.

"What are you, the ghost of Christmas friggin' future now?" she screamed at him. He winced at her harsh language and sharp venomous tone. "Why are you showing me this? Why are you doing this to me? _Why_?" And then the tears came. Claire allowed herself to fall to her knees in the snow, wracked with a pain and despair that words did not have the capacity to describe.

"You have a bright future," Hiro pleaded with her. "You have found a man that is like _you_. He will never grow old, and he will _never_ die. You will have countless happy years together, and many gifted children."

"With _Sylar_!" She shouted in agony at the little Japanese man. He had to look away from her. Claire's eyes were filled with convoluted emotions that he was not able to fully understand, not being in her place.

"The path of the hero is often a difficult one. We face danger, and watch our loved ones be hurt." Hiro became filled with his own sadness, momentarily drifting off in memory. "I do not like that man. But I cannot deny what I have seen. In this future he is a good man, and you are very happy together."

Claire's hollow cries slowed and eventually stopped. She climbed to her feet again and took another look into the window. Two young boys with dark sandy blonde hair and deep brown eyes had joined the scene as they all gathered together as a family. Sylar sat in the chair with a book reading animatedly to the children on the floor before him. Claire observed herself perched on the side of the chair with her arm around the man she openly despised.

"_Have you ever stopped to think about how much we have in common, Claire_?"

"I'm ready to go home now," she sniffled. Hiro nodded, and with a blink they were teleported back to Claire's bedroom of their present time. She glanced at the clock, glowing red beside her bed. Not a minute had passed. She nestled back into her bed and pulled her comforter around her protectively, wiping away a single tear that remained from her previous outburst.

Hiro pushed his glasses up onto his nose and took the girl's hands into his own. "No future is written in stone. We all have the power to change our destinies. In four hours your father is planning to kill Sylar. I showed you these things so that you could see how far this decision will go. What you do now is your choice." Claire stared after his retreating form as her night's companion quietly slipped out of sight through her bedroom door.

"_I'm not saying that there aren't bridges that need to be built, but if we start building them now… Who knows?"_

"I don't want to be alone," she whispered into the darkness.

Hiro silently exited the Bennet home and headed for the side walk, his stride conspicuously elongating with each step. A wicked smile spread across his lips while strolling away. He tossed a casual glance back at the house, and shape shifted into Sylar's form.

**The end.**


End file.
